Trying Times
by Back in Ten Minutes
Summary: And how did you get here so quickly?" she asks, unwilling to admit defeat. "Unless you were following me, hoping to push me into the river." If you really want to know (which you probably don't) then it's all explained in the first chapter.


Hello! Before you read, please pay heed to this warning: this most probably will be a Mary Sue. Also, this is what most people would term a "Legomance." (Yes I cringe at that too) But it's also a test. After reading several rather impressive Mary Sues where the authors have done everything right except for one thing (which is keeping the characters in, well, character), I've done a test.   
  
And to appease my idea that Orlando Bloom with a blond wig is supremely hot. Even more so than Brad Pitt, who had very nice arms in Troy.  
  
And if you flame me I will ignore you.  
  
Be warned. I have given warning, and if you still want to read it, then don't flame it. Thsi is how I would imagine he would act to someone who is a bit silly and rather rude, as my character is.  
  
Oh, I almost forgot the disclaimer. None of these characters are mine, except the random town people and Eredwen herself (which stands for Thorn Maiden). Which also belongs to John Ronald Ruel Tolkien.  
  
Here it is.  
  
Eredwen steadies herself. A visit to the King is not to be taken lightly, though she has heard great tales of his wondrous deeds. She has put on her best dress, but it seems rude and loud in comparison to the delicate satin of the court ladies. Her mutt accompanies her to the gate, but is made to stay outside by the strict guards.   
  
She quells her rapid heart and ignores the glances that her mutt has attracted. Poppy barks once, twice, and the guards rustle slightly. "Silence your dog, maiden," says one of them. Eredwen is quick to obey, but she smoulders at the scorn in his tone. The guards open the door, and in she marches.  
  
The hall is great. Greater than what she had remembered, and this does not help her clammy hands. But very soon, she is before the King and his wife. For a moment, before she sinks to her knees, she is astounded and is glad they cannot see her face.   
  
For never, ever, has she seen such beauty of mind and face on any living thing before, and there was such feeling and understanding in her glance. But she has heard that the Queen was of Elvish descent, a princess in herself. Or perhaps that was exaggerated, but she wonders. How would an immortal elf live after her love died?  
  
And then she is bidden to rise and to tell of her request, for this day, any person may make a wish and see it done, or at least the best of the Kingdom's extent. Eredwen stutters and reddens.  
  
But slowly, then speedier, she explains her predicament, and then the King is silent, and she is aware of the scrutiny of the Queen's glance, and looks to her feet.   
  
But is the Queen herself who speaks, and Eredwen humbles her spirit and looks into her face. "You would like an escort to accompany you on your quest?"  
  
"Yes, my Queen," says Eredwen quickly.  
  
"Only one?" asks the King.  
  
"One who is ably to protect himself, and myself in the wilderness of untamed Gondor and perhaps beyond." Eredwen cannot believe the King does not send out laughing at her foolishness, but she does not notice the glance shared by the King and Queen.  
  
"Very well, child," says the Queen, and the words do not reach her, for even now, Eredwen is still trapped in her musical voice. She looks on her face in amazement, then at the King, and she sees his wisdom.   
  
"Thank you!" says Eredwen, her nervousness abating. "Thank you, my lord and lady! O blessed is Gondor to have such generous rulers!"  
  
And then she informs them of her other needs, and she is surprised that he shall be an elf, and wonders at him. But for now, she rushes out, and Poppy senses her joy and rises, barking, and they dance in the streets.  
  
The next morn, she is eager. She rises early and puts on clothes sufficient for a hard day's riding, though she knows not to ride well at all. Her family is gone, and she lives alone save for Poppy, and the mutt is ever faithful, but Eredwen knows she must leave her behind.   
  
Eredwen's friend Turgil takes him with much eye-rolling, but Eredwen thanks him profusely. She runs through the streets laughing in joy, and is made to wait in the castle, but she is finally allowed in the chamber of the King and his Queen. She bursts in, much to the consternation of the graceful ladies assembled there.   
  
She pays no heed to them, but proclaims, "I am ready!" And then a blond Man turns (though she was not sure of that for his hair was long and fine and she would have mistaken him for a woman if it were not for his masculine clothes) and she sees that he is an elf, and he appears disgruntled.  
  
Eredwen knows this is the elf that will accompany her, and doubt strikes. Suppose he abandons her? But the King beckons, and soon all is ready, and in a rush of speed and joy, Eredwen is thrust onto a horse and is riding unsteadily away from her former life with a saddle-less elf whose name she has not yet learned at her side, along with a sizeable amount of rations.  
  
The morning is cool, and she turns back, feeling odd, and she can still see the blessed gleam of the White Tower. The wind blows, and Eredwen laughs aloud in relief and joy and urges her horse to a run, in which she fights to stay on, unaware of the stranger who is her escort.  
  
"I hope the entire journey will not be like this?" asks the elf a few seconds later as he hurries to catch up to her.   
  
"Like what, sir Elf?" she asks in perfect sincerity.  
  
"That I shall have to run after you incessantly, as I just did now?" and she perceives that he is not very happy.  
  
She is not afraid of repercussions of her natural rudeness here, with just the two of them. "Yes, sir Elf. You shall." And she turns her nose to the sky, knowing that she might just have damned any chance of comradeship between herself and the elf, and runs even faster away from him.  
  
But in a few seconds, again, the sound of clipping hooves is heard behind her, and the elf appears behind her, and he smiles in amusement. "Perhaps you would like to know my name, instead of calling me something ridiculous?" he says.  
  
"Hm, yes. What is your name?" she asks, slowing her pace, for she is in danger of falling off her saddle as she bounces along.  
  
"Legolas." And she stares astounded, for she has heard that name, and she knows suddenly that here, is one of the ever-famed Nine Walkers.  
  
He stares back. "It's not that fascinating of a name, you realize. A variation of -"  
  
"Legolas of the Nine?" asks Eredwen, and he is surprised at the respect in her voice. Perhaps, he thinks, the rude wench knows manners after all.   
  
"Well -"  
  
"The very same that the King Elessar was in, and the 4 halflings, and the Captain Boromir, and the wizard Gandalf?" she asks.  
  
"You are forgetting, like most shallow people, the dwarf Gimli, whom I hold in the highest respect," he says.  
  
She fumes at his insolence. "I am not shallow, you old man. I did not forget him. Rather, I did not include him for I have never heard of him!" And it is true.  
  
Legolas knows he does not appear an old man. In a second, the respect in her voice has turned to embarrassment and scorn. And she is in danger of falling off her horse. He remarks this to her.   
  
"Will I also be having to pick you up every few yards, dear charge?" he laughs, guiltily delighting in the whitening of her knuckles.   
  
"Never have I met one of the Fair Folk as rude and... and as stupid as you!" she snarls, her cheeks reddening.  
  
"But I doubt that you have met any, is that not the truth?" he asks, taunting. In a second, she lashes sideways out of her horse, and her fingers wrap around his neck. Of course, he has allowed her to do this, not wishing her to fall should he swerve out of the way, but her fingers squeezing with a rather strong grip is a problem.  
  
"What was that?" she hisses, and he halts his horse. She gasps from the suddenness, for her horse still walks, and lets go, slipping off silently. Legolas sighs quietly and hurries to catch her before she harms herself on the ground.   
  
"Well..." she says quietly, her eyes wide with fear. "Thank you."  
  
He places her on his horse and there is a silent agreement afterwards that they should not speak unless there would be absolute need, and even then with placidity. But from that moment on, all she can see are his eyes blue with mirth.  
  
They ride for the entire day, but they speak quite a lot, much to Eredwen's strong feelings of both delight and consternation, for she fears that she will act a fool. But she is as cutting as ever, and as the sun sets and the view of Minas Tirith disappears, she learns many things of him and he her.  
  
At night, they prepare to make camp. Legolas has asked of her quest, and as she spreads her blanket, she ponders how to answer him. "I suppose I shall have to tell you, since you are my escort," she says, more to herself than to him.  
  
"Yes, I am," he responds.  
  
And now a fire is started, and the heat soothes her. She stares across the fiery mess to the bright eyes of the elf, and she feels intruded. "Stop your - your probing!" she snaps.  
  
"Probing?" he laughs. The sound is strange to her ears, but akin to that of Queen Arwen's laugh. "I have said nothing."  
  
She sighs. "I am starving. What do we eat?" she asks, changing the subject. She hopes it is good food.  
  
"Whatever we find."  
  
"Do we not have supplies, elf?" she asks.   
  
"Yes, but they are called rations for a reason."  
  
"I see. Well, I know not to hunt," she says, unwilling to chew on leaves. "And you have the arrows here."  
  
But he shrugs. The fire has grown large now. "What do you prefer? I do not eat the flesh of other animals."  
  
Eredwen stares. "So what do you eat then?" she laughs, disbelieving.  
  
He does not answer, but tells her that he will be back. "And stay put."  
  
"I am no dog, and you are not my master," she calls to his retreating back, but in vain. His soft steps have disappeared already. He returns shortly, holding two fistfuls of plants.   
  
"I see you have obeyed."  
  
"I am ravaged," she says, ignoring the slight. She takes the pot, but there is naught water to boil. "And you have forgotten the water."  
  
"Fetch it yourself," he says, sitting down, and she is astounded, once more, by his utter rudeness. She stalks away, determined to fill the water and empty it over his head. The night is not silent as she walks farther and farther away from the fire. She grows nervous, but quells her fear.   
  
Eredwen listens carefully for water. And lo! There is the sound of rushing. She runs towards it, then gasping as she nearly falls off the edge of the cliff. Below by a long, sheer drop, there is a fast clear river. There is a light touch at her shoulder and she stumbles forward in alarm, but hands pull her back.  
  
It is, of course, Legolas. "That was an excellent idea, sir elf! Indeed! Send a maiden towards a cliff! Perfect for you, isn't it?" she raves as he smiles and watches her.   
  
"You are safe, are you not?" he asks.  
  
"And how did you get here so quickly?" she asks, unwilling to admit defeat. "Unless you were following me, hoping to push me into the river.  
  
"Oh yes, my charge. And that is why you are drowned at the bottom of the river right now."  
  
"I could have been, foolish elf!"  
  
They keep on their argument, their pact forgotten, until finally he takes her by the wrist and leads her back to camp, where he snatches the pot, and after telling her to stay put with a very dashing smirk, fetches the water himself.  
  
"Well, that was most excellent, Cook," says Eredwen, her temper abated as she has finishes eating.  
  
"I thank you for that compliment," says Legolas, also calmed by the meal of mainly soup. He had been coaxed to give up some of his rations, but that does not bother him too much. They fall asleep after a while of talking quite nicely with the exception of the cliff incident ("murderer of maidens!" said Eredwen to his comments of him doing all the work).  
  
The next morning they wake and Eredwen is quickly jolted out of sleep as she tries to get on her horse and falls off twice. Her horse trots along, with her barely holding on. She can feel his superior tone in his voice. "Do you need help, or should we slow down?" he asks.  
  
"Ugh... no... quicker in fact. Must not waste time."  
  
"What are you in such hurry to get to?" he yells over the whipping wind as she clutches to her horse for dear life as it breaks into a run at her uneasy urging.  
  
"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" she calls.   
  
"Yes," he calls back.  
  
She does not answer but slows her horse. Legolas sighs and slows his pace as well. "Yes. I was thrust into this by my friend, and I agreed only for his sake."  
  
"Did he not tell you?" asks Eredwen.   
  
"Of course not. Are you that thick?" he asks, but a familiar smile is on his lips.  
  
"Are the Eldar not gracious and kind?" she demands.   
  
"I wouldn't know, charge."  
  
"I suppose calling me charge gives you a feeling of superiority?" she asks.  
  
"It is the truth, is it not?"  
  
She is silent.  
  
"Now will you tell me or not?"  
  
So Eredwen tells him. And he cannot admit being impressed (but just a little) at her loyalty despite his current opinion of her.   
  
After they ride in silence. The landscape is now becoming slowly more rugged. The road is fuzzed along the edges, and people are less often seen. The day drags on and Eredwen learns a few things about horses, while Legolas is a detached observer. At the end, she says, "What say you that we stop in a place with people in it?"  
  
"If you'd like. But what would you do there?" he asks.  
  
"Sleep on a real bed, is one thing," she replies. They have reached a sort of limbo between amity and annoyance.  
  
"The lady desires not to travel?" he asks with an edge to his voice.   
  
She looks at him oddly but says nothing. For a while they ride.  
  
"Are there any near?" she demands cuttingly. At his puzzled look, she impatiently exclaims, "Any towns near, sir elf? You are such an ass. Really. I once knew a donkey with more sense than you."  
  
"There are, in fact," says Legolas.  
  
"Then take me to them," says Eredwen, smiling at the prospect of softness beneath her as she slumbered.  
  
He sighs. "Yes, my Qu - charge."  
  
She laughs. "What were you going to call me?"  
  
"I couldn't decide between charge or Queen."  
  
"I suppose you would have said Queen with utter sarcasm, would you have not?" she says, giving him a scorning glance.  
  
He stays silent, humming, but he changes course and she knows that there is a town near. She has money, not much, but enough, she supposes, for a stay at a bar for a night. How she will enjoy others' company, not just the one of this manner-less elf.  
  
She glances at him, and he is looking up, for it is near nightfall now. The stars are blinking into existence, one by one. He breathes in, and there is a sort of easy, peaceful silence, the kind before real nightfall falls and the insects start off and the sun dips beneath the horizon.  
  
And Eredwen is enchanted, for she has never felt this and she looks up to the stars as well and does not notice the shadow of a smile Legolas has as he glances at her.  
  
"What's the word in Sindarin for stars?" she asks, her feelings of unfriendliness vanishing.  
  
"What do you think the Firstborn first said when they laid eyes on the sky, dotted with stars as you see now?"  
  
But she is confused, for she is uneducated. "Firstborn?"  
  
And then he proceeds to tell her of the Valar, who were before the Ainur as they made the Music, and Eru the creator of all, and Eredwen stares at him in amazement for his soft voice weaves vivid images in her mind and she is speechless.  
  
And so pleased at her silence, he tells her of Melkor, who aftermore was known as Morgoth and she is still silent, but they have reached the outskirts of the small town.  
  
There are few people, and they give the Elf and his human companion wary glances, for the aftereffects of the War of the Ring still lasts. But Eledwen is friendly and her gold shines, and soon they have made their way to a busy bar and inn and she sighs in contentment.  
  
They rap at the door, leading their horses, and a peephole opens. The eye stares them up and down, lingering on Legolas, before a feminine voice speaks.  
  
"Yes? Do ye have business here?"  
  
Legolas starts to speak but is cut off by Eredwen. "Lend two weary travelers a room for one night, and warm meals to fill their decidedly empty stomachs, please, my Lady!"  
  
"And your horses?"  
  
"Do you have a stable?"  
  
"No." Eredwen glances up at Legolas, and he shrugs, but makes a motion to tell her to continue.  
  
"Well... we'll take care of that."  
  
"It'll cost ye. We only have one room."  
  
"Can we at least come in, please?" asks Eredwen, annoyed. The door opens and standing before them is a curvy brunette, looking very tired. Behind her they can see an open door and beyond that, many laughing men who are obviously drunk, and the occasional serving girl.  
  
The girl (or woman...) stares at the elf most rudely but ushers them in. As soon as a price is laid, after a nasty exchange of words in which Legolas had had to interfere, they are settled inconspicuously, or so they hope, at the corner of the bar.  
  
"That was most pleasant."  
  
Eredwen turns her head sharply, still annoyed. "What was?" she demands, her eyes narrowing most unpleasantly.  
  
He decides not to pursue it. Their food, that they have ordered sparingly, has arrived. The serving girl grins prettily at Legolas, and he returns it (but not as prettily), which adds to Eredwen's bad temper.  
  
As they sip their soup, which contains no meat, they talk quietly of their money and their quest. Eledwen hopes that they will be able to have some beer, which makes Legolas start to laugh.  
  
"What is it now?" she demands brusquely. He shakes his head and hands her a coin, which is thanks to the fact that she has threatened to cut off all his hair in his sleep (which is highly doubtful) but he humours her. Them few men around them stare as she calls loudly for a drink.   
  
Very soon, two very pretty maidens arrive. "Yes?" they ask.  
  
"Do you have beer?" They stare. "Beer... oh you know! Brewed stuff."  
  
And of course they know and they hasten to give her a small mug.  
  
In a few hours, they trudge up to their room, and it gives them both a nasty shock to realize there is only one bed. Eredwen rushes forward, but the elf arrives faster, and he sits on it cross-legged as she fumes.   
  
"You don't even sleep though! I've seen you, elf!"  
  
She manages to throw him off after much bodily threats and heaving and quickly falls asleep and so he decides to rest standing. After a few minutes, she sits up. The fire still burns, and Legolas regards her.  
  
"What happened to our horses and our supplies?" she asks, looking very worried.   
  
"While you were... talking to the owner, I took it on myself to take care of them," he says elegantly. "And our supplies are safe."  
  
"Really? That's excellent!" she exclaims. "Where are they?"  
  
"You shall have to guess."  
  
She goes to sleep after dousing the fire, and giving him just as scathing a look. "Wake up early tomorrow." She dreams of calling voices.  
  
Comments: As I said, this is a test. Even if I think Legolas is extremely hot. Which he is. Unless you're a guy.


End file.
